


Stay

by DaveighMustaine



Category: Anthrax (US Band), Megadeth
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Death, Depression, Gen, Guardian Angels, If you only read one work by me, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, References to Depression, Second Chances, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Survival, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaveighMustaine/pseuds/DaveighMustaine
Summary: After being kicked out of Metallica Dave Mustaine makes the mistake of taking a one way plunge he can never take back...or so he thinks. Seven years later he is given seven days to save someone from making the same mistake. Will he succeed?Originally written 12/16/2019 - 1/25/2020 - Reposting it on here for safe keeping and due to the sketchiness of Wattpad.
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a work of fiction told from Dave's point of view. What if after he was kicked out of Metallica he went down a dark path of no return? And then, what if he was given a chance for redemption?
> 
> This story is going to deal with heavy subjects of suicide/suicidal thoughts and substance abuse. If you struggle with these things please go seek help.
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline- 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Alcoholics Anonymous- www.aa.org
> 
> I was inpired to write this when I found myself dipping into depression last winter and trying to numb my pain with the bottle. So I went to an event hosted by the book club I am a part of (a horror book club) with the theme of Christmas ghosts. I was wearing my Megadeth beanie that night and at intermission I was talking to one of my friends about Dave Mustaine. The song "Never Too Late" by Three Days Grace had been in my head because I had seen them in concert a few days prior. Thus, the seeds for Stay were planted.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So as you read this, know my friends   
> I'd love to stay with you all  
> Please smile when you think of me  
> My body's gone, that's all"
> 
> ~Megadeth, A Tout Le Monde

There isn't much that I remember about that day, but I can still remember the way I felt.

Betrayed, gutted, abandoned. I remember all those feelings.

And I remember asking, "Why?"

I would never receive an answer.

After a bus ride from hell that may as well have delivered me straight there I stumbled around a few days with ever intention to drink myself to death. I fucked up everything that was ever important to me anyway, so why bother staying?

I do remember climbing up high, the highest peak I could find and looking down into the water so deep that I just saw black.

I don't remember the fall for some reason, but I do remember the sudden feeling of cold and the feeling of being dragged down, my lungs filling up with ice water as I sank and sank, my hair billowing up about me like red seaweed.

Then I was still for what seemed like eternity.

And then for some reason I rose back up, like I was pulled by a string extending from my naval...like my umbilical cord had never been cut.

Oh, God, mom, I'm sorry...so sorry.

I caught my breath for the first time in what seemed like years as I gazed up into what seemed like a grey sun. I heard no words by I felt myself flooded with knowledge.

"Yes, I understand," I heard myself choke out, my throat coated with salt water.

I'm coming for you.


	2. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Things will be better when I'm dead and gone  
> Don't try to understand, knowing you, I'm probably wrong"
> 
> ~Megadeth, In My Darkest Hour

I wake up to find myself lying face down in the sand, unsure how long I’d been there, but it feels like an eternity. I can still feel the saltiness of the ocean water coat my lungs and throat, burning me from the inside out, as I let out several heaving coughs. And I’m _sore_. Every muscle in my body aches. It feels like I had been treading water forever.

I lift my head; my red mane is wet and matted to the sides of my face and the back of my neck, and I stiffly attempt to survey my surroundings. I am seemingly alone on this beach.

­­­­­­­­­I let out a groan as I attempt to push myself up off of the sandy terrain but my muscles don’t seem to want to cooperate. I try again. It’s like I’m relearning how to walk. Finally I muster up the will to at least roll over onto my back. I let out another cough and gasp for air trying to fill ­my lungs. It feels like it’s been a life time since I caught a good breath of air.

I lay and catch my breath listen to the ocean waves as I try to center my energy- something I had learned about in my martial arts training but failed to apply in my daily life. I finally muster up the will to sit up on the beach. I take another look around. It feels bright today. I have to squint from the light illuminating from the sun. Something is off though. It’s as if everything is in greyscale. Not black and white, mind you. Just…muted…dull. But, I can till sense the brightness from the sun.

I let out a groan as I stumble up onto my feet. I look down at myself. I’m wearing a white button down shirt, a pair of washed out jeans, and a pair of red Nike sneakers. Is this what I was wearing the last time I was alive? I can’t remember.

I attempt to get my bearings. To one side of me there is beach. To the other side is beach. To the front of me is the ocean. Behind me there are some sand dunes before what looks like some cottages…I figure must be on the outskirts of a small town. That’s my best bet, I figure. I better head that way.

Where was I the last time I was alive? Los Angeles? I was given a one-way ticket to Los Angeles by the guys I had considered my brothers. Good luck to me, right?

Right.

I begin walking. Trudging up the small hill of the dune was no small feat. I privately wonder what’s wrong with me until I remind myself that I had, in fact, woken up dead that day.

I feel like there is something drawing me forward. It’s like that invisible umbilical cord stemming from my bellybutton again. It’s like it’s trying to work like a compass, or maybe even a reverse tractor beam, and steer me in the right direction. I can feel it.

I follow it.

Besides the gentle tugging I am feeling I have an undeniable urge to go to New York. This is odd, though. The last time I was in New York it was the beginning of the end for me. Now? It was like I couldn’t wait to get there. I need to be there.

Somebody was there. Somebody needed me. I needed to get there. Now.

I hope I can get there in time.

I follow the tugging as I stumble along. I make my way to the top of the dune where I come across a board walk. I trudge my way down the board walk until I am met with a few steps leading down to the pavement of the road. My feet hit the pavement as I wonder to myself if I’m going to walk to New York. That might take more than….wait, how long do I have?

_Seven days._

Seven days. Almost sounds biblical.

As I walk along, following the feeling in my gut, I can’t help but consider the impossibility of my situation. I have seven days to help some guy in New York. A guy I had never met. I don’t know what his name is, I don’t know what he looks like, and I don’t know how I’ll ever get to him on time since as far as I can tell I have no money.

Wait, let me check my pockets.

Yeah, I’m broke.

Okay, just to review here: I’m dead, I’m broke, and I have seven days to make it to New York and to find some guy I’ve never met.

Great. Maybe I should just throw in the towel now and save myself the trouble.

Just as that thought crossed my mind I felt a jolt of electricity. It was as if someone had hooked my invisible umbilical cord up to a couple of jumper cables and revved the engine. I let out a shout of pain and took a knee doing a superman punch to the pavement. I ground my teeth as I felt tears brim my eyes and my nuts jump into my throat and my nipples harden into raisins. I feel the veins in both my forehead and neck pulsate as I let out a groan of agony.

“Okay, I’m going!” I manage to shout out loud and I feel the pain quickly subside.

I catch my breath for a minute and swallow. I rise to my feet and continue to amble forward wondering what the hell that was.

I continue to follow the phantom umbilical cord into a town. The streets are sparsely populated as I look around. I wander along as I am taken deeper into the small town until I feel and urge to turn. I turn and look up and see a sign for a Greyhound station.

Great. The Greyhound. Because, that held so many pleasant memories for me.

I seriously consider kicking the side of the building, screaming obscenities, and yanking my hair out but decide I don’t want to cause a scene. Also, I don’t want to feel that nasty jolt again as a tenderly rub my belly button. I let out a mixture of a sigh and a growl as I walk through the doors. I’ll do this mission, or at least I’ll try, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.

And I have no idea if I’ll be able to succeed.

I scowl as I look around the busy bus depot. Apparently everyone who lived in this little town was here at this very moment. Then I notice the peddler in the corner trying to play the guitar and sing some song by…Journey, I think?

Even though I’ve been dead for who knows how long I am still not in the mood to deal with a bunch of people today.

Whatever, I push myself forward towards the ticket booth. I don’t really have a plan in place- I have no money. But the pull brought me here.

Worse comes to worse maybe I’ll beg.

Or maybe I’ll steal the dude who is singing’s guitar and peddling for cash and peddle for my own cash. His guitar skills suck anyway. His singing isn’t bad, though.

Or maybe by some divine intervention I’ll magically be able to purchase a ticket.

What do I have to lose?

I get in line. As soon as the man in the ticket booth yells “Next” I step up and begin to say, “I need a ticket to New York,” but before the words make it out my mouth the guy yells “Next!!!” I blink at him.

“Dude, I’m right in front of you...” I say just as another guy, a portly truck driving looking dude steps up to me and I…bounce off of him. It’s like I’m almost nothing….like I’m made of cotton balls. He doesn’t necessarily _not_ react to me at all…it’s like he took the slightest stumble, or maybe a flinch is more accurate, as he bumped into me. He didn’t’ acknowledge it, tough. It was barely there. No one else could have noticed.

I look back startled at the guy behind me before I turn back to the guy in the ticket booth. I hold my hand up at him and wave slowly back and forth. As I’m doing this the truck looking guy behind me is ordering his ticket and the guy behind the ticket booth is looking right through me. It’s like…I’m not even there.

They can’t see me. They can’t hear me. They can’t feel me.

I’m not even there.

I step aside and back away. I back straight into a little old black lady with her oversized black leather bag and big black goggle sunglasses. She barely even acknowledges me. Again, it’s like I’m made of cotton balls.

I furrow my brow and run my hand through my golden red curls. How the fuck am I supposed to do this?

And then in sinks in further. No one can see me. No one can hear me. Now one can feel me.

At that moment I never met more alone. And, believe me…I have felt alone before.

It was like a brick of ice was shoved into my gut. I wanted to puke and sob at the same time. But then, I hear…

_New York._

The name keeps playing in the back of my mind. Softly sometimes, but at others it gets a little louder as if it is holding me accountable from stalling.

_New York. New York. New York._

“Okay, I’m going,” I grunt as I look about the bus terminal. Which bus would take me to New York?

I start wandering through the depot checking the signs on the buses (since it doesn’t seem logical to try and ask anyone working there since I apparently might as well not even be there) when suddenly I stopped. A guy was standing there in the depot with long wavy brown, and hazel eyes…more brown than they were green, and a rectangular face shape with a prominent bulbous chin. I don’t know what it was, but for some reason at that exact moment I felt drawn to the guy.

And for a split moment, I swear he saw me. As I watch him he turns and, I swear, he looks straight at me. 

After a few seconds I hear someone call the name “Dave!” and we both turned to look. Out of the corner of my eye I then saw as he grins and walks over to the friend he was meeting.

I can’t help but think that this guy is somehow important. I have half a mind to follow him, but I know I’m needed elsewhere.

_New York._

“Yeah, okay, I got it,” I assure out loud but to myself. I find the bus and board it. No one tries to stop me. No one looks at me. I’m not even there.

Here we go.


	3. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The way we were,  
> The chance to save my soul  
> And my concern is now in vain  
> Believe the word,  
> I will unlock my door  
> And pass the cemetery gates”
> 
> ~Pantera, Cemetery Gates

Did you know that it takes two days and eight hours to get from California to New York by Greyhound?

I did. Guess how? I’ve done this journey before. Except then I was heading in the opposite direction. So, I won’t even be at my destination until late tomorrow at the earliest. And even then there are variables that can affect things such as the bus breaking down, unruly passengers, bad weather, shit like that.

I wonder why the invisible umbilical cord didn’t guide me to the airport instead of the bus depot. It would have made the trip a lot faster.

My sense of urgency has kicked up a notch. You know that bad feeling you get in your chest when you feel it tighten up and your heart starts beating at a million miles a minute but you don’t really know why? Like you have a feeling of dread, like something is looming, something bad is going to happen? I’m having that right now, and I don’t totally understand why. Sure, I can guess why. It has something to do with this mission I am on and the guy I’m supposed to help. I feel like I am running out of time.

The wicked witch had flipped the sand timer.

I do hope I can get there in time.

Why, you might ask? I mean, I know what it’s like to feel like you have no other way out. I got shit on enough while I was alive to the point where I felt like my only real choice was to end things in a permanent manner. 

Or, so I thought. Yet, here I am…mostly. Why should I give a shit about someone else’s shit?

Well…I guess I wish that someone had been there for me. And, if this guy feels hopeless for whatever reason, I do want to at least try and help him. 

Honestly…I never really had it easy. Coming from a broken home with a drunk of a father who chased my mom across the state of California with me and my sisters it was never easy. I was always starting at a new school, never having a really good core group of friends since we moved so much. I was always the new kid. Being a skinny, pasty, redhead only made things worse. I always managed to stick out like a sore thumb no matter where I was, but especially in California.

Then guys at school would find out that I did martial arts and then they would always try to fight me.

Yeah, it could be pretty lonely most of the time. I guess that’s why I got so good at martial arts and so good at the guitar. They were my outlets.

I guess that’s why it hurt so much. I had thought I found the friends, no, the family I had always been looking for. James, Lars, and Cliff…they were like my long lost brothers. I would have done anything for those guys.

But, they dumped me. They dumped me like a sack of shit.

There they were all standing over me, looking down on me like it was Judgement Day. They were the Archangels who had come to weigh my soul. I couldn’t even focus my eyes on them as they stood over me like silhouettes...shadows.

I wasn't even hung over, I was still fucking drunk.

I think it was Lars who said it. I was out of the band.

That was it. Done. No warning. No second chance. I lost everything I had worked so hard for. But what's worse, I lost my brothers.

No chick had ever hurt me so bad. It was the most agonizing pain I had ever felt. Like my heart had ripped in two on the inside. Despite the tough exterior I had developed in my solitude growing up and martial arts training, I was like a little kid that had gotten abandoned on a doorstep. Or like a dog that got dumped on the side of the road. I wanted to chase that car and get my family back.

But I was never even given a chance. I would never be able to catch that car. They didn’t want me. They didn’t care. They didn't even look in their rear view mirror.

And I was alone again.

God, it still hurts inside, and I’m dead.

I kinda wish I could stop thinking about it for a while, but I feel like reflecting on that experience might help me on this mission. How? Well, I don’t really know. But, my gut tells me that it somehow might be important in one way or another.

But, yeah, it hurts.

Besides reflecting on my previous life I’ve been spending some time trying to figure out what I am exactly and what I can and cannot do. I don’t think I’m an angel and I’m not quite sure if I am a ghost. I’m pretty sure I’m not a zombie because I seem to have a rational train of thought and haven’t craved eating brains…yet. I can’t help but sneer a little snicker to myself, but I digress…

I tried looking at my reflection in the window of the bus and all I can see is a fuzzy blur where my face should be…as if someone had painted a portrait of me and the smeared my face in a circle before the paint was dry. I can kind of make out the outline of my hair though. When I look down I look, well, normal. Same arms, same chest, same legs, same everything it seems. I don’t seem to be bloated or discolored (having sunk to the bottom of the ocean and all), I don’t have rotting skin, and I don’t seem to stink…at least I don’t think I do.

I also seem to have little to no impact on my surroundings. About a dozen times or so someone has almost sat in my lap during this hellish bus ride and I have had to scurry out of the way. No one notices when I have had to climb over them to do so, it’s like I’m not even there, or just barely there, like I am made out of the lightest, fluffiest cotton in the world.

I don’t seem to have a need for food or for sleep. In some ways that might seem really cool, but in others it’s…kind of boring. And lonely.

I did find, though, that if I stare at a person for a long time they start to get uncomfortable. Have you ever have that feeling you are being watched? Well, you probably are…by a dead mother fucker like me. Hah.

I don’t seem to have a physical impact anything around me either. I’ve tried moving some things. Nothing major, I’m not trying to start a panic or cause a scene or anything right now since I’m on a mission and all, but you know, the strap of a bag, the pom-pom on some chick’s hat, things like that. I have no impact. It’s like I don’t have the strength.

So, I’m guessing I’m not a poltergeist.

This complicates things though. I know I have a mission to go help someone, but I’m not sure how I’m going to do it if they won’t even know that I’m there. I mean it’s not exactly like a giant hand reached down from the sky and handed me a manual on how to do this or anything.

But I know I have to try. Somehow. 


	4. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everyone leaves me stranded  
> Forgotten, abandoned, left behind  
> I can't stay here another night”
> 
> ~Evanescence, Solitude

It’s near the end of the day when the bus finally arrives in New York. I passed the time mostly by making sure I didn’t have any kind of supernatural powers. You know, like the kinds you see in the movies? It would be somewhat helpful right now if I could just magically appear wherever I am needed to move my mission along, especially since my time is almost halfway up and I still have no idea who I am supposed to help, why I am supposed to help them, or how. All I’ve got is the invisible cord stemming from my belly button tugging at me…now more urgently.

When we arrive at the bus station and de-board the bus suddenly I felt like I was being bounced around like I was the ball inside a pinball machine…which would probably look really funny to a bystander. I may be skinny, but I’m not exactly dainty. So, if I were to walk by and see some tall, skinny guy being bounced around back and forth like a beach ball with his long hair whipping about I would probably laugh.

But, they can’t see me. No one can.

My presence still has virtually no effect on anyone else. I wait as the crowd disperses and am able to stand my ground, push my curly thick mane out of my eyes, and look around to get my bearings. I have a strong feeling in my gut that I’m still not in the right place.

I huff as I lean against a wall in the bus depot and take a look around me, looking for a clue as where I am exactly as I’ve just realized that, although I took a bus to New York, it had not taken me to New York City as I had originally assumed. Unfortunately for me I don’t see any kind of sign indicating exactly where I am, but I move closer to a few guys, about my age (or the age I last was when I was alive)…maybe a little younger, who were greeting each other enthusiastically chatting about class schedules. College kids, I’m thinking? One of them is wearing a Syracuse University sweatshirt. Maybe that’s where I am…Syracuse. Never been here before.

Suddenly, I feel the tug. I feel my invisible guide pull me quickly through the bus station. I’m running now, my sense of urgency at an all-time high. I’m running, I’m running, until I get to….another bus. This one is a smaller city bus, not a big Greyhound. I don’t even get a chance to stop as I feel myself practically pulled through the bus door as it was closing. I had to turn myself sideways to make it through.

Even though I don’t seem to have a need for eating or sleeping I do have the ability to feel absolutely nauseous, apparently.

I huff as I lean against a pole in the bus and take a look around me, looking for a clue as where I am going. Unfortunately for me I don’t see any kind of sign or route details on the inside of the bus I am in and I didn’t get a chance to read the marquee displayed on the outside of the bus. 

Not to be a total asshole about all this, but it would’ve been pretty cool if I had more of a direct route to my mission. I wonder how long this bus ride will take. There has been a lot of sitting around and waiting for such a seemingly urgent mission.

I hate waiting. Waiting makes me think.

And right now, I hate thinking because with thinking comes the pain.

 _‘Bury it,’_ I think to myself.

It would be nice if I could feel numb to it all, but even in death I still can’t seem to help but care. I wish I didn’t, but I do. I wish it still didn’t hurt, but it does.

I wish I could talk to my mom, but…I can’t.

That one hurts…a lot. And that…is totally my fault.

This is why I hate waiting around and thinking. When I lost my band of brothers the only other person I really had was my mom.

What must she had thought?

_‘Bury it, bury it.’_

Then, I think about the climb. Broken hearted and drunk. All I did when I got back to California was drink to numb the pain inside. When that didn’t work, I thought maybe I’d drink myself to death. I could join my father. But, that was taking too long and I couldn’t take the feeling of just being so…sad…lost…broken…abandoned….

_‘Bury it, bury it, bury it!’_

I can’t do this right now. I have got to stay focused and stop throwing myself a little pity party.

Maybe it would be a good time to check to see if I had developed any new ghost powers.

So, I spent the next hour and a half or so of my afterlife double checking things I already knew. I can’t be seen, heard, or felt (significantly) by other people. However, if I stare at someone for an extended period of time they get uncomfortable. I’ve found this is also true if I try reading over someone’s shoulder (hey, I was getting a little bored trying to entertain myself and wanted to see what was going on in the world in the past seven years since I had left it. They guy with the newspaper got super antsy, though, with me sitting next to him reading over his shoulder and ended up crumbling it up into a ball and tossing it in the trash can while I was trying to read the headlines).

Then, I wonder to myself….can I fly? I mean…I’m sure I am not an angel and I don’t have wings but…ghosts fly in the movies, right?

I clear my throat and look around. The aisle is empty and no one can see me.

Well, only one way to find out, right? I walk to the end of the bus and take a breath. What the hell did I have to lose?

I take a couple of running steps, bend my legs pushing myself off the ground and forward, I am airborne…for about three seconds. I belly flop in the middle of the aisle.

No, I can’t seem to fly. I chuckle to myself as I shake my head. I flip my hair back out of my face as I get to my knees and then stand. Well, there was only one way to find out, right?

At long last I felt the bus lurch to a stop. I stay to the back as the patrons exit down the stairs, not feeling like being a human ping-pong ball again, and then I bring up the rear, staying close behind the last passenger to avoid a narrow escape from the bus doors.

We exit out into the street and I take a look around. I have no idea where I am now. This time I’m not in a bus depot, just in the street. I let out a sigh and scratch the back of my neck. Now what?

I get my answer by that phantom tug from my naval _. Not again_ , I groan. This time…it’s not so urgent though. This tells me I am at least in the right general area of where I am needed.

Well, that’s good.

It’s dark outside and the streets are glistening like inky black tar rivers. But, they are solid enough.

I follow the feeling in my gut and walk for a while. This place…sure is different from New York City. I mean, it’s not exactly a small town (although to be fair, New York City could make almost anyplace seem like a tiny little village) but there is still some kind of….old timey country charm about it. I don’t know, but I like it.

I find myself being guided to what appears to be a harbor. I touch the black rail and look down. There’s a river…a big river. I look around. I seem to be alone. I stand there and wait, wondering if my guide will tell me anything else but…no. Nothing. Apparently this is where I am supposed to be.

Okay. I’ll wait.


	5. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing's ever easy when you do it yourself  
> All you can do is try  
> Life's not unfair, life's just life  
> Death not suicide”
> 
> ~Anthrax, Be All, End All

I stand here alone on the harbor until dawn breaks and I see the sunrise. Watching the sunrise…why is it I can’t even remember watching the sunrise while I was still alive? The colors are all muted and washed out from my perspective, but still…it was glorious in a way.

Getting a little restless I pace back towards the side of the building and lean my shoulder up against it and fold my arms across my chest and exhale as I wait keeping a sharp eye on the spot that I was lead to. I don’t seem to have a need to sleep, but do have the ability to get bored pretty easily.

I hate being bored. I hate waiting.

Because, then I start thinking.

Suddenly I hear a sound. A look sharply to see a family of ducks waddling their way onto the harbor quaking away. I feel the corner of my lips curve up into a smile. I’d feed them something if I could. Coming from a broken home and having a lack of stability had hardened me during my living years in a lot of ways, but I still have a soft spot for animals.

I watch the ducks waddle along for a few more moments when suddenly I feel a pang of alarm in the pit of my gut and the invisible chord stemming from my naval give me a tug that nearly offsets my balance.

_Pay attention!_

I turn my attention sharply back to the spot of the harbor and I see someone. I can’t make out much in silhouette from where I am standing but…this was the person. I know it. I can feel it.

Okay, here goes nothing.

I walk towards the person. As I approach, I can see he is, in fact, a male with long curly hair, not unlike mine. Except, his hair is black, not red like mine. He is long and lean, but not as tall as me, and with a slighter build than mine. His skin is a bronze color and he is dressed all in black, but I can assure you that he is not Johnny Cash.

I walk up to the side of him and see him staring down at the water. I know that look. That lost, abandoned look in his eyes. Staring at the water like it’s a sexy piece of ass that will take all his worries away. Wanting to dive in and sink down, down to the bottom for that final release.

I know that look because it was the same one I had.

I stand beside him for a moment and begin to open my mouth but then I realize something….no one can see me, hear me, or touch me. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I put my hands on my hips glance down at the river in thought.

“Well, fuck,” I say aloud, completely befuddled by my predicament.

The guy whirled around and faced me square in the eye. His brown eyes widen from having been startled and he screams directly in my face. I put my hands up and take a step back, screaming back at him with my eyes equally wide.

He stops and stares at me and I stop to catch my breath (I’m not sure if I actually need to do this or if this is sort of a habit I’ve kept from my living years) and ask him as I take a step back towards him, “You can see me?”

The guy turns bolts away from me, not giving me an answer.

How rude.

“Hey, wait!” I yell after him and I too am running.

There are people out and about now, but I can see him running ahead of me up the harbor and back to where it meets the streets.

Gotta catch him.

I am running down the street after him, occasionally bumping into other people, having virtually no effect on them, however I bounce around as if I’m made of cotton. Still, I’m running.

Damn he is fast.

But, I’m fast too.

I can’t help but think to myself how ridiculous we would look if people could see me; a tall, skinny guy with long hair chasing after another tall, skinny guy with long hair.

Reminds me of the time my sister’s ex-boyfriend called me a fag because of my long hair.

I hope that guy got herpes.

Long after my sister dumped his ass, that is.

Anyway, I’m running, I’m running. I’m a lion chasing after a gazelle. I can see him ahead of me, his long black hair whipping behind him.

“Come back here!” I yell as I am chasing the guy, but he keeps running ahead of me.

I’m getting impatient.

I think hard to myself, _‘Bring me to him.’_

Suddenly I feel that pull again from my naval, but this time it is hard like my belly button is going to be ripped out. I’m pulled up into the air and forward, flying above everyone else on the street at what feels like warp speed as I scream. Everything is a blur until I am set back down. Confused about what happened, I turn and look and there he is charging right toward me.

He notices and lets out another scream, causing me to once again scream in return. He attempts to skid to a stop, but he was moving too fast. Next thing I know he is turning and crouching down and his shoulder meets my solar plexus and he straightens up again.

I feel it.

He turns and runs back in the opposite direction as I fly up into the air and drop down to ground again _hard_. I can feel as my eyes are practically rolling around in my skull from the impact.

That motherfucker just body checked me. And I felt it as if I were still alive.

I slowly sit up as I glare in his direction and I feel my lip curl up in a sneer and I let out a snarl.

“Alright, that’s it!” I shout out, “When I get my hands on you, you scrappy little-“

My thoughts are cut short as I feel the electric pulse that happen every time it seems like I am going to abandon or sabotage my mission and a double forward.

“Alright! I didn’t mean it!” I yell and the pain subsides as I get back up on my feet and go running after the scrappy bastard.

Alright, time to try this again. But, this time I’m ready.

_‘Bring me to him.’_

I feel myself once again pulled upward and dragged forward at light speed.

I land and I turn, ready. Surprise motherfucker!

Before he is even able to register what is going on I grab him around his shoulders, flip him around and slam him on the ground in a good ol’ hip toss.

People are looking now, thinking he is having some kind of seizure or something.

He’s yelling, thrashing around, and fighting again me as I pin his shoulders down and straddle his chest.

“Stop! Stop fighting me! I’m not going to hurt you!” I yell down at him as he bucks around like a fucking bronco. For being a scrawny guy he is surprisingly strong.

“Well fuck! You got a strange way of showing it!” He yells back up at me and I roll my eyes.

“Just stop and I’ll explain. I’m here to help.”

He is getting tired and is out of breath and he looks up at me completely bewildered, “ _Help_ me?”

“Yes, now, listen to me real quick. No one can seem to see me except you so right now…You look like you’re just fighting air. As long as you promise not to run off again, I’ll let you up. Got it?” I say quickly down to him.

His brown eyes stare at me cautiously and he searches my face before he slowly begins to nod in agreement.

“Okay, great. I’m Dave, by the way,” I say as I stand to my feet and offer him my hand.

“…Joey,” He replies as he cautiously accepts my hand and I help pull him to his feet. He brushes himself off and then turns to see the small crowd of people who had stopped to stare at him. He looks at me and I give him a shrug not knowing what else to tell him. He looks back at the crowd of people, “Uh….there was a bee.”

I snort and can’t help but laugh, “Nice excuse, man.”

He stares at me for a moment and then shakes his head before stretching out his back and rubbing his ass. Must’ve hurt when he hit the pavement. The people around slowly begin to disperse and he and I stare at each other some more. I give him a cocky grin and shrug.

“So…what do you want?” He finally asks as he eyes me suspiciously and then looks around our surroundings getting his bearings.

“I’m here to help you,” I repeat my words from earlier. I look up at a sign above me and see it belongs to a coffee shop. I look back at him, “Care for a cup?”

“Sure, I guess,” He says with a shrug.

I follow him inside and we wait in line together. As we get to the counter he starts to ask me what I wanted and I had to remind him that I was invisible and that only he could see me. He looks and me perplexed and then back at the barista, who is staring at him quizzically, and orders.

“I’d offer to pay but unfortunately I didn’t come with cash,” I said and smile at him wryly. He looks at me a shrugs.

I then follow him to collect his order and then to find a place to sit.

“Corner seat,” I say and point to him, “That way you can have your back to everyone else so people won’t think you’re a crazy person sitting here talking to yourself.”

“I think I might be, though,” Joey says with a groan and a shake of his head.

We have a seat and he sets his coffee mug down on the table and we stare at each other for a minute.

“So…what’s up?” I ask him and he stares back at me blinking.

“Uh…not much,” He says with a shrug.

I sigh a little and lean forward in my chair as I look at him and I say dryly, “Look…you’re going to have to help me out here a little. I know I came back so I could help you, but I don’t know why or how. I wasn’t given a manual or anything. So, if you could be a little forth coming it would be great.”

“Wait…what do you mean you came back?” Joey asks furrowing his brow.

“Well…I’m kinda dead,” I say with a shrug.

He was about to take a sip of his coffee but then stops, looks back up at me as he sets his mug down, “Kinda…dead?”

I give him a nod, “Yeah, that’s why no one else can see me except you for some reason. I’m not really sure why that is. Like I said, I wasn’t given a manual so I’m just kinda winging it here. But, all the signs I’ve had have pointed to you.”

“So…you’re like my guardian angel?” He says with a scratch of his head, “If you help me you’ll get your wings?”

I give a snide smirk, “Believe me, man, I’m no angel. But, I am here to help. So, enough about me…what’s going on with you?”

Joey sighed a little and then looked out the window that we were sitting next to. That lost, longing feeling was in his eyes again. I watch him for a moment.

“Well…? Why were you at the harbor early this morning? How about we start there?” I suggest, watching him closely.

He gives me a glance and sighs and looks back out the window, “I was taking a walk.”

“You always walk down to the harbor that early in the morning?” I ask him as I lean back in my seat watching him.

“No,” He responds so softly I have to strain to hear him.

“Okay…well…what was different about today, then?” I ask him.

“I got…a phone call,” Joey responds as he stares at the window, voice still soft.

“Bad news?” I ask him.

He nods.

“Want to talk about it?” I ask him.

He shakes his head and sighs.

“Girlfriend trouble?”

He shakes his head.

“Someone die?”

He turns and gives me a glare before he shakes his head, “Not yet.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “Okay. Not only are you scrappy, but you’re incredibly cryptic…”

He sighs and then turns to me and says, “I got fired.”

I stare at him for a moment and tilt my head slightly, “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Yeah, that sucks man. I was fired, too. I know how it is. What was your job?”

“I was in a band,” Joey says flatly and he turns and faces the window again looking out and letting out a sigh.

“Well, shit, same here. That really sucks,” I said and I straighten up in my chair. “What do you play?”

“I was the singer,” He said and sighed, “But, I play the drums, too.”

“Ah,” I said, “I was lead guitarist.”

He turns and looks at me, “You played the guitar?”

I give him a nod, “Yeah. I was good at it, too.”

“Lucky bastard,” Joey grumbled.

“Hey now,” I give him a smirk and snort a laugh, “I’m dead, remember? I’d hardly call that ‘lucky.’ Anyway, what’s the name of the band that you were kicked out of? Would I have heard of them?”

“Anthrax.”

I straighten up in the chair, “Anthrax? I know Anthrax!” I said, “I met you guys…well, not you. But…yeah I knew Scott and Charlie and all them. They were always cool with me.”

Joey bowed his head slightly and I realized I was doing a really shitty job a choosing my words and being empathetic.

“Sorry. So, what happened? Why’d they fire you?” I asked as a leaned back calmly.

“I don’t know,” Joey responds.

“What? They didn’t give you a reason when they called?” I ask him.

He shakes his head and sighs, “They…didn’t even call me. They had our manager do it.”

I stared at him dumbfounded, “Wait…are you serious? That’s…that’s really shitty, man.”

“Yeah…I feel like shit right now,” Joey nods.

“Man, I’m sorry. That sucks. At least when I got fired from Metallica-“

Joey then turns and looks at me with a confused look on his face, “You were in Metallica?”

I nodded at him, “Yeah, Metallica. At least….at the _very, very_ least they told me themselves. I mean, they woke me up while I was still drunk and did it but…at the very least I guess I can say they did it themselves.”

Joey eyed me for a moment before turning to the window again.

“Drink up your coffee,” I said, “You look tired.”

Joey turned and stared at me, “This is you helping?”

“Just do it,” I said with a glare and a fake smile, “And go get a croissant.”

“I’m not hungry.” Joey states.

“Okay, but I saw some ducks earlier that might be.”


	6. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Living with a curse, sometimes it's even worse  
> It slowly kills me everyday  
> Something I despise is gonna take my life  
> I guess I'll try again today”
> 
> ~Stone Sour, Socio

Joey and I hung out pretty much all day long at the coffee shop before we went to go feed the ducks at sunset. Mostly we sat in silence. I would try and pick his brain about things to try and figure out how I could possibly help him, but he stayed quiet mostly.

Can’t say I blame him. I know what it’s like to be fired by the people you consider your family.

The difference between him and me is that they didn’t even have the backbones to do it themselves.

But, I’m guessing that’s why I was picked to come help Scrappy.

That’s what I call him. Scrappy.

Anyway, there are a lot of parallels here. Us both having been fired by our bands of brothers, but also, something he told me later on was that apparently there was some kind of issue with his drinking.

Well, I know all about that too.

So basically what happened was that they, Scott in particular, had some kind of beef with how much he was drinking. So, what did Scrappy do? He quit. Cold turkey.

And yet, he still ended up getting fired.

So they give him a warning, give him a second chance (something I never got) and he hold s up his end of the bargain but still…they fire him anyways.

Perplexing, isn’t it?

Well, I figure there has to be more to it but it started getting late and he was looking tired so I told him he should head home.

But, I was coming with him.

So, here I am sitting by myself in his dinky little family room in his dinky little bachelor’s pad.

Kind of reminds me of the one I had back when I supported myself by selling pot. This was long before I joined Metallica.

But, yeah. Standard little pad with a family room, bathroom, kitchenette, and bedroom.

I checked on him a few times as he slept. Maybe that sounds weird, but I wasn’t trying to be creepy, it just felt like the right thing to do. I need to know more about what is going on with this guy. I mean, clearly he has been dealt a shitty hand recently, but…still I think there is more going on that he hasn’t told me yet. Which I get…he just met me and it’s not every day you met a dead guy who is practically serving as your guardian angel. But, still.

Anyway, his sleep was restless. I saw him flop and roll around a bunch of times, but his eyes stayed closed. He has a dream catcher hanging above his bed and apparently it wasn’t doing its job.

Soon I decide to lie out on the couch and close my eyes. I don’t fall asleep (I don’t need to sleep) but I act like I am. Maybe he’ll sleep better if I act like a living person and stop poking around.

Awhile later he is up. He’s wearing pajama pants. I open my eyes and look at him.

“Uh, hey, man,” He says. He’s still a little wary of me. He probably wishes that all of yesterday was a bad dream. I can’t say I blame him. “I don’t have much food here, but can I get you anything?”

“I’m dead,” I say as I sit up, “I don’t eat.”

“Right,” He says with a nod, before he shuffles along into the kitchenette to make some coffee.

I get up and meander about some more. I walk into the bathroom and nearly shit myself when I see my reflection in the mirror. It’s still all muddled and distorted, like a big swirl where my face should be. I can see it more prominently in the mirror than I could in the bus window the other day. It absolutely gives chills and makes my skin crawl. I turn around, walk back out the bathroom, and walk straight up to Joey.

“Look, this is going to sound really weird,” I say as I approach him, taking him aback slightly, “But…what do you see when you look at me?”

“Is…this some kind of test?” Joey asks furrowing his brow as he looks at me.

“No,” I say shaking my head, “No. But…seriously. Tell me.”

Joey tilts his head slightly and then gives a shrug, “You…just look like a normal guy.”

“I mean…I have a face and a nose and all that?” I ask.

“Are you on something?” Joey asks, looking at me suspiciously, “Or am I?”

I let out a sigh, “I can’t see my reflection. It’s weird. I just see…I don’t know. A swirl where I should be,” I say as I hold up my in front of my face and circle it around for emphasis.

Joey stares at me and then shrugs, “No. You just…look like a regular guy. I never would have thought otherwise.”

“Okay,” I aid and nod.

Well, that’s good. That would have explained why he was so intent on running away from me yesterday if he saw me the way I saw my reflection, though.

Speaking of which…that chase yesterday? I swear I have never even chased after a chick so hard in my life. To be fair, I never really need to, though. Most chicks found me appealing and let me catch them easy.

Anyway, I putter around looking through his crap trying to get to know this guy. He watches me.

“What you looking for?” He asks as he blows on his coffee.

“Just…trying to figure you out. Trying to figure out why I saw sent here,” I respond nonchalantly. He’s got some records. I could see he’s a big fan of 70’s rock and the Beatles.

I then get up and walk back to his room. I see the dreamcatcher again above the bed. Also…there’s a hockey mask. Interesting.

I turn and see he is standing behind me in the doorway.

“You play?” I ask, gesturing to the mask.

“I did when I was in high school. I was gonna go semi-pro but, well, music kinda took over,” He said with a shrug and a sigh.

“Ah, that explains the body check yesterday,” I said with a nod. “I was a martial artist and you still took me off guard.”

Joey just stares at me for a minute before looking around.

“How about this? Is there a story behind this?” I ask as I point to the dreamcatcher.

“I’m half Iroquois,” He responds flatly.

“Oh, cool,” I say with a nod, “That…I can’t really relate to.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Joey says with a sigh. He then walks over and sits down on the edge of his bed. “I…don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Ah, finally, it sounds like he finally might want to actually talk. So far it’s been like pulling teeth from a turtle. I take a seat next to him and watch him expectantly. He stares straight down at the floor in front of us.

“Go on,” I say, inviting him to continue talking.

“I just…I didn’t expect this. I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Joey says and he lets out a sigh and closes his eyes. “Anthrax was just…it was all I ever wanted. To perform…to belong…and now it’s…gone…”

I nod. Yeah. I know that feeling. I know that exact feeling, “Okay, well, keep performing, then.”

He shakes his head and lets out a short humorless laugh, “I don’t have a band and I don’t write songs.”

“Okay, well…start a band. Write some songs,” I say with a shrug.

“Are you making fun of me?” He asks as her furrows his brow but he keeps staring down at the floor in front of us.

“I was being serious,” I respond. I smirk a little, but I was being serious.

“I don’t know,” Joey says with another sigh and brings his coffee mug up to his lips and sips.

“Okay,” I say and I lean back so I am resting my elbows against the mattress and think to myself, “What about hockey?”

He furrows his brow again and turns to look at me, “Now I know you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” I say with a laugh.

“I’m too old to pick it back up professionally,” Joey says flatly as he turns and faces forward again.

“Oh, well, excuse me,” I said with a shrug, “Well…let’s go do something while we brain storm. Maybe we’ll get some ideas.”

“What’s the point?” Joey asks with a sigh, “I should just…”

I stare at him for a moment and sit up keeping my eyes on his profile, “Go on…just what?”

He shakes his head, “Never mind.”

Cryptic asshole.

“Okay, well, let’s go do something. What’s fun to do around here?” I ask him.

He shakes his head.

“Oh, come on! There’s got to be something!” I say as I watch him expectantly.

“Well…there is this one place I like to go sometimes when I’m feeling down,” Joey says, he lifts his head thoughtfully.

“The harbor?” I ask.

He looks at me, a hint of alarm in his eyes, and then shakes his head, “No, not there. There’s this place where they give horseback riding lessons. I don’t go to ride, though. I just like to watch the horses out in the field.”

“Oh,” I say and nod, “Okay, let’s go there.”

Joey sighs a little and then shrugs, “Yeah, okay, I guess we could.”

“Go get dressed then, Scrappy!” I say and then get up and walk back to the family room to wait for him.

Soon he emerges from his room dressed for the day, wearing all black again, and we head off. We get into his car (he had to open the door for me…what a gentleman!) and head out to the country. We pull up to this little horse training facility and park. There is a large fenced in pen area where a bunch of horses are out grazing. He and I walk up and lean against the wooden fence and watch the horses munch on the grass.

“Yeah, I can see why you like it out here,” I say to him as I watch the horses and then look around. We area officially out in the country. It’s nice and quiet. And it’s a nice day. There’s a gentle breeze that blows both our hair back and I can smell them.

“Yeah, I actually used to work here on the side when I was a kid,” Joey said to me, “You know, to earn a little extra cash.”

“I used to deal pot,” I say with a snort. He looks at me and I can see a slight shadow of a smile threaten to creep across his lips. And for a moment…I feel like I’m winning a little. Just for a moment. We stare at the horses some more before I look at him, “So, maybe do something like this again. I mean, maybe not as a career, but you know, to have something to do until you figure out what’s next.”

“Is that what you did?” Joey asks.

“No man. No…I went…in a different direction,” I respond with a sigh.

“Which direction?” He asks and looks at me, his deep brown eyes study me for a second, and suddenly I’m feeling a little uncomfortable. He’s not being weird or anything; he’s just asking me a question that I don’t want to answer.

“Hey now. This isn’t about me, this is about you,” I say dodging his inquiry. He shrugs and looks forward again. “So, maybe go inside and see if they need some help. At least it would give you something to do to keep you busy. Sitting around thinking too much and moping around isn’t good. Besides…taking care of horses…sounds pretty cool to me.”

Like I said, I’ve got a soft spot for animals.

“I don’t know, maybe…” He says with a sigh and continues to watch the horses. Suddenly a large one with a shiny black coat with a billowing black mane and tail looks up in our direction. It begins to trot over to us but then stops when it looks dead at me.

You know how they say animals have a sixth sense? I’m thinking they’re right.

“I’m gonna back up for a minute,” I whisper to Joey and slowly begin to back away from the fence. I keep backing away until I am back by the car.

I watch as the horse watches me for a moment and then looks at Joey. It begins to approach him again until it is right near the fence. It turns its face so it can see Joey with its eye. Then I watch as Joey cautiously reaches up and pets the horse on the neck. The horse then nudges Joey with its nose and gives his mane a shake before turning and trotting back into the field.

“Wow,” Joey said with a laugh and turns towards me.

“See? He wants you to take care of him!” I laugh back. I approach the fence again, figuring it was okay now that the horse had left.

“That was so cool,” He Joey said and he leans his chin against his arms that are folded on top of the wood of the fence.

“Maybe he’s your spirit animal, Mr. Iroquois man,” I say with a shrug, leaning against the fence.

“You can call me Injun if you want. My friends do, sometimes. Right now it feels like you’re my only friend,” He says to me.

I regard him for a moment and then shrug, turning back to the horses, “I don’t know. I kinda prefer Scrappy.”


	7. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Even if I say it'll be alright  
> Still I hear you say you want to end your life  
> Now and again we try to just stay alive  
> Maybe we'll turn it all around 'cause it's not too late  
> It's never too late”
> 
> Three Days Grace, Never Too Late

Scrappy and I left the barn yard last night with an application. The girl working the office was a cute Asian chick. She had long silky black hair, golden fair skin, and dark brown eyes that almost looked black. Petite in build and, hell, I would have gone for her. Not Joey, though. He's either preoccupied, or shy, or both. I'm betting on both.

I sit on his couch and reflect on what I know about his situation because I am well aware of the fact that I am running out of time. He's been kicked out of his band, despite meeting their demand of giving up drinking, and doesn't seem to know what to do next. For some reason though, I feel like I'm not just here to be his job coach.

Why was he at the harbor the other morning and why did he have that look in his eye? Anytime I would bring it up he would dodge my question and change the subject.

I ponder to myself as I sit on his couch until I hear him stir around in the bedroom. He shuffles into the family room where I am pensively sitting on his couch with my elbows on my knees, and my fingertips tapping together as I think. Maybe I look a little like an evil genius, but hey, if the shoes fits.

"Hey, man," Joey greets me with a sigh.

"Hey," I say back, dropping my hands into my lap as I lean back and stretch out my legs, "You fill out that application?"

"Not yet," Joey says as he scratches the back of his head.

"What are you waiting for?" I ask him curiously.

Joey shrugs as he walks over to his kitchenette to make some coffee. He's got that lost look in his eye again. I get off my spot from the couch and stroll on over to the kitchenette where he is preparing his coffee. I lean against the wall and cross my arms.

"Cute girl though, huh?"

Joey glances at me as if he doesn't know what I am talking about before returning back to his task of making coffee

"You know what she made me think of? David Bowie," I say.

"China Girl?" Joey asks casually.

"Yeah, you know what I'm saying," I say with a grin. He joins me in a light hearted chuckle. We're just a couple of dudes sharing our thoughts about a chick. This should perk him up. Right?

Nah, I'm wrong. His eyes instantly flash back to that dark, lost look again.

"So," I say as I watch him, "What's on the agenda for the day today, Scrappy?"

He gives me a half-hearted shrug, not even bothering to turn and look at me. I tilt my head a little as I watch him curiously. He just shuffles about preparing his coffee. I puff out my cheeks and let out and blow out the air.

"Come on, man," I say then, "We gotta get you out of the apartment."

"Why?" Joey asks with a sigh of frustration and he looks at me and for once since I met him, there's a little fire behind his eyes, "Why can't I just...be left alone?"

"You're hurting my feelings, Scrappy. I told you, it's not a good idea to just sit around and dwell on things. So, come on. Let's go out."

Joey looks at me for a minute like he's getting ready to argue with me but then he relents, "Alright...alright we'll go somewhere."

"Oh, goody," A clap my hands together with an impish grin, "Where we going today?"

Joey just shrugs and shakes his head. I regard him for a moment. Apparently he's going to need a little extra help from me today.

"How about...we go back to that little café from the other day? We'll start there and see where the day takes us," I suggest.

Joey sighs a little and then nods, "Yeah...yeah, okay I guess we could do that. Let me just....go shower."

"Good," I nod, "A shower will do you some good."

"What....do I stink?" Joey asks curiously before smelling his pit causing me to chuckle.

"No, man, I meant it might help you feel better."

Scrappy shrugs and then heads into the bathroom and I hear him moving around in there as I mosey about, looking around thinking.

Think, Dave, think. What is going on with this guy and what do you need to do to help? I mean...clearly the guy is depressed but...there's more to this, I'm sure of it.

I start thinking back. There's got to be a clue there somewhere.

We met at the harbor. He's fast. He's played hockey. He's a singer and a drummer, but not a song writer, and thought I was lucky to have been a guitarist. And he got fired.

When I got fired I went on a three day drinking bender before I threw myself off a bridge.

Why was he at the harbor that day? I mean...I could guess. I saw that look in his eye as he was staring down at the water but...I gotta know for sure. I gotta hear it from him.

It's not long before he and I are walking down the sidewalk together. His eyes gaze downward and he's got that pensive look on his face again. Who am I kidding? He's always got that look on his face.

Maybe that's just his face.

Nah, this guy is really trying to process through something.

"I'd give you a penny for your thoughts, but unfortunately I'm all out of pennies."

Joey shrugs not bothering to look up, "Just thinking..."

"About...?"

Joey sighs exasperatedly and looks at me, "All of it, man. All of it. I just....I don't know what I'm going to do. One minute I had everything going for me and then suddenly...it's all ripped out from underneath me. Do...do you have any idea what that's like?"

A stare back at him for a moment as a feel a smirk form on my lips. There's that fire I saw before. Good...honestly, I think this is good. He's feeling something other than sadness.

"Yes. I do," I respond.

Joey stares at me and then nods and sighs, "Yeah, man. Look...I know. You told me. I didn't mean-"

"Don't apologize," I interrupt and broaden the smile on my face, "It's okay to be angry. Embrace that."

Joey studies me for a moment, his deep set eyes searching my face, "It's just....I'm not like that. I don't like getting mad and fighting and all that."

"You don't like fighting," I say with an amused look on my face, "But you were a hockey player?"

Joey's lips turns slightly up in a grin as he lets out a little laugh, "Hey, I didn't say I never fought..."

"Right," I laugh and nod.

We continue walking until we make it to the café. I follow him in. I head over to the same spot where we sat last time so Joey could sit with his back to the rest of the restaurant so, hopefully, people wouldn't look at him like he was a crazy person sitting there talking to himself.

'Cause no one can see me.

Joey joins me once he got himself a mug of coffee and a muffin. I'm glad he's got the muffin since he hasn't really eaten much of anything since I've been around him. And yeah, I'm a skinny dude too, but...he just had no appetite at all.

He sits and out of his pocket he pulls the application and a pen. I lean forward with a little smile on my face.

"Good, you brought it," I say as I watch him fill out his name.

"Yeah, well, I figured why not. I went through the trouble of getting it, so I might as well."

"That's...not exactly how I remember it," I laugh. I had to pull him by the scruff of his shirt and drag him towards the office for him to get the application.

Joey gives me a smirk and a glare as I grin cheekily back at him.

"I wish..." Joey lets out a sigh and set down the pen. He wasn't finished with the application yet.

"Go on," I encourage him.

"I just wish I was still doing something with music."

"So...then do," I say with a shrug.

He looks at me, "We've had this conversation."

"Yeah, well, if it's in your blood then it's in your blood. What's the problem? You can't play the guitar? So what, man?"

"I've never written anything on my own," Joey responds, "I just...I don't know how."

"Okay, well, I do. I was a song writer. I'll let you in on a secret. There's no formula to it. It doesn't start with lyrics first or music first, it starts with a feeling first then you just...go from there. So, tell me, Scrappy. How ya feelin'?" I lean forward with a grin on my face as I watch him.

Joey glances away for a moment and stares off as he thinks before he looks at me again, "Sad...hurt...angry...betrayed..."

"Okay," I nod, "Okay, good. So, now just...put all that into words....your own words. Describe it to me. Try and make me feel what you feel."

Joey looks at me for a moment before he pulls out a napkin from the napkin dispenser that was on the table. Then he takes his pen and hunches over the napkin. I lean forward to try and see what he was writing but his black hair made a curtain that blocks my view. He then sits back and holds up the napkin reading it before he looks at me and then places it in front of me on the table. I look at him for a moment before leaning over the napkin.

"I'm taking every step  
As if it was my last  
I wonder if I'll make it out alive"

I look back up at him and tilt my head a little, "Hey, now! Not bad! You just came up with that?"

Joey shrugs a little, "Well, it's something I've been thinking a little in the back of my head. I'd thought it'd go a little like..." Joey starts humming a melody.

"Well, there you go. It's a start," I sit back and grin at him. He doesn't look totally convinced but, I don't know. At least I got him to write something down.

We hang out at the coffee shop for a while until the sun begins to set. We then head on out together. Joey's got his application filled out and a pocket full of napkins containing possible song lyrics.

We are walking when we hear some loud music coming from a few doors down. He and I look at each other, shrug, and then head in the direction of the door. We look and see it's a bar and apparently they're having karaoke night.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" I say thoughtfully and look at him. "What do you say, Scrappy?"

Joey lets out a humorless laugh, "Oh, I don't know. I don't drink anymore."

"So?" I ask him, "Don't. I'm sure they'll have something non-alcoholic."

Joey shifts slightly and then looks at me, "I haven't sang since..."

"Ah," I nod, understanding, "Well, you say you're a singer so it's time for you to do what singers do."

Joey looked apprehensively, "I...don't know. I don't know if I can."

"Look, man, don't let those assholes steal your fire. I wanna hear what you've got," I say and a nudge him a little.

"Well...okay, I guess," Joey says before walking into the bar. I follow him. He looks around before sitting in a booth. I sit across from him. Within a few moments a waitress is there. She's a blonde. Oh, man, I've always been a sucker for blondes. She hands Joey a menu and flashes him a smile before walking away.

Oh, man. If only I were alive....

Anyway, I look at Joey, "So...what song will you be gracing me with tonight?" I ask him as I clasp my hands and jokingly bat my eyes at him which causes the corner of his mouth to pull up in a slight smirk and he lets out a snort of a laugh.

"Well...maybe one I did that got me my gig with Anthrax."

"Okay, go sign up," I say and nod him in the direction of the sign up table.

Joey looks at me, nods, and then heads on up. I see him as he fills out the sign-up sheet next to the DJ. He then returns and sits back down across from me. Within a minute the waitress is back. 

"So...what'll it be?" She asks as she eyes him and her lips flash a smile. Cherry red. Hot damn.

"Just a coffee, thanks," Joey responds and hands her back the menu. She takes it from him and lingers for another moment to smile at him some more before turning and walking away. Joey then looks at me and I am staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Dude, that chick, she's got eyes for you," I say leaning forward.

"Huh?" Joey asked before turning to look in the direction the waitress had walked in and then back at me.

"You heard me. You should get her number."

Joey scoffs at me and lets out a laugh shaking his head, "Nah, man."

Then she was back. She sets the coffee on the table, slowly bending over slightly, eyeing him again before straightening back up and turning to walk away.

Joey looks at me.

"Pretty sure she was looking at you, dude," I say flatly. Joey can't hide the smile spreading across his lips.

"Next up, we have...Joey!" The DJ then announces into the microphone.

Joey looks at me one last time before he gets back out of the booth and walks to the microphone.

"Alright, Scrappy!" I clap and cheer even though no one else can hear me.

He can hear me and that's what was important.

He looks at me apprehensively from the microphone before opening his mouth and belting it out. My jaw nearly dropped.

"You should've been gone  
Knowing how I made you feel  
And I should've been gone  
After all your words of steel..."

What. The. Fuck. Seriously? I knew this guy said he was a singer but...he could actually sing. Really well.

What the hell, Scott and Charlie? Why'd you guys let this guy go? He's fucking good.

And...he's got a lot of attention. Everyone had turned to look in his direction to watch him as he sang. People dropped their conversations in mid-sentence to listen to him. Holy hell.

And the waitress. She stopped doing what she was doing, too.

Once the song ends he receives a thunderous applause from the bar patrons. Rightfully so.

"Well, damn, man!" I laugh as he comes back to the table, "I didn't know you could do that!"

"It's what I do," Joey said with a shrug and a hint of a smile on his face.

I lean forward a little, "Dude...you have a gift."

Joey stares at me for a minute and smiles a little, "Thank you."

"Scrappy...tell me," I said leaning forward some more, "What were you doing at the harbor?"

Joey sighs a little, face falling as he looked down at his coffee and then back up at me, "I don't want to talk about it."

I huff a little and lean back as I watch him. He's perked up...a little. People come over to sing him praise for the song he sang. His eyes light up when they do. And though, for a moment, he's looking pretty good. But looking pretty happy for a moment I know is not enough. I've got to get to the bottom of this....and I'm running out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics to Down & Out by Joey Belladonna
> 
> Lyrics to Oh Sherrie by Steve Perry


	8. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My fear has died, my tears have dried  
> I don't feel afraid and I won't run away  
> I believe in me and now I see  
> Right through your lies, hiding being your eyes  
> Because of you I'll make it through  
> And nothing can hurt me like you did anymore”
> 
> Halestorm, Heart of Novocaine

I am at the end of the line and I know it. Today is my last day with Scrappy and I don’t feel like I’ve completed my mission. I sit pensively on his couch as I wait for him to wake up. I am leaning forward on the couch, my arms crossed and my elbows on my knees as I think to myself on what I could possibly do in just one day to help the guy out.

I don’t look up as I hear him shuffle in. He pauses and I feel his eyes on me.

“You okay, man?” He asks me warily from across the room.

I nod without looking at him. I’m trying to think about what I could do on my last day with him that might have some sort of impact.

He lingers for a moment before he moves to the kitchen. I hear him stirring around there, fumbling with the coffee machine. I let out a sigh as I think, feeling the crease in my brow. Then I stand to my feet.

At the very least I need to try and act normal.

Well, normal for me.

I stroll over to the kitchenette and lean my shoulder against the wall as I watch him.

“So, what do you think about turning in that application today?” I ask him as he watches the coffee brew in his coffee maker.

He glances at me and gives me a slight shrug, “I guess we could.”

“Okay, let’s start there today,” I give him a nod and a smirk.

The ride over is quieter than normal. I stare out the passenger window as Joey drives to the stables. Once there he heads in into the office area while I linger around outside and watch the horses as they graze around in the grass. What magnificent beasts they are. But…taming them? I don’t know how it is done anymore, but I know in the olden days it was a process. Breaking their spirit was part of training a wild horse. Were these horses broken? Or had they been born tamed? I can’t help but wonder and feel my heart break a little for them.

I’m leaning against the car, keeping my distance from the horses, and I feel Joey return. He walks up to me, glances at what I am looking at, before leaning against his car, too.

“Something’s on your mind today,” Joey says quietly, his hands are jammed into his pockets as he makes this observation.

I nod quietly, “Yes.”

“So…care to share? You’re usually the talkative one.”

I let out a slight sigh before I answer, “We need to go back to the harbor.”

I could sense Joey tense up but I don’t look at him. A breath hitches in his throat before he croaks out, “Why?”

“It’s…where we first met. It’s important,” I respond simply. He is staring at me. I can feel it. He doesn’t want to go back there and I need to know why.

“Dave…I…”

“It’s important, Joey,” I say. He regards me for a moment, partially because I am calling him by his real name. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him bow his head slightly before giving a slight nod. “Let’s get going. There isn’t much time.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Joey stammers at me, slightly confused.

“We just need to get there,” I grunt slightly and turn to the passenger side door of his car.

Joey watches me for a minute before giving a shrug and opening the door for me. I sit inside and wait as he comes around the driver’s side and gets in. He glances at me a second before gunning the engine and putting the car in gear and we are off. We drive in silence before reaching the edge of the city again down by the river. He puts the car in park, turns off the ignition, and pulls the keys out. Then, we just sit there.

He sits there, not moving a muscle. He hands in his laps as he stares straight ahead with the look of a lost little boy in his eyes. I look at him, really look at him, for the first time that day and cock my head slightly. I start to open my mouth to say something but he beats me to the punch.

“Why are we here?” He asks his deep brown eyes have a pleading look as his body trembles slightly.

“We have to go back to where we first met,” I respond calmly as I read him.

“But…why?” He asks me.

“Because…that’s just how it’s done,” I respond to him. He then glances warily at me. I do my best to give him a cocky smirk but I’m not sure if I fooled him, “Hey, have I lead you astray yet?”

Joey shakes his head at me and he watches me, looking for guidance, or wisdom, or some shit I’m not even sure I have.

“Let’s go then,” I say. He stares at me apprehensively for a moment before getting out of the car. He walks around the car and lets me out the passenger side. We walk together in silence, looking for the spot where we first me.

As we walk we come across a group of ducks waddling their ways down the boardwalk. I smile a little, “Think it’s the same group?”

Joey shrugs and gave a slight smile himself and responds, “Maybe they really liked the croissant?”

I nod. Then, we’re there. The same spot of the harbor where I first inadvertently snuck up on him a couple of days ago. There is a rail. We both lean our elbows on it and we watch the water of the river flowing. There is a gust of wind that blows back through both of our hair as we stand in silence for what seems like an eternity.

But it’s not. My time is almost up.

Joey sighs slightly before he asks in a hushed tone, “Why are we here?”

I let out my own sigh as I stare forward, watching the glistening of the reflection of the sunlight in the water, “I need to know…what you were doing here the day we first met.”

I can see Joey begin to shake his head. He straightens up slightly, anxiously, and for a moment I thought he was about run again like the first time we met. But, he doesn’t. But he doesn’t respond.

After a moment of silence I finally ask, “Do you want to know what happened to me?”

Joey looks at me startled before I see him nod in my peripheral vision.

I swallow slightly and let out a breath. It feels like I had been holding the breath since the dawn of time. Then I say, “After I was fired from Metallica I went back to California and…I went on a three day long drinking bender.”

I glance at Joey and see is looking at me intently as I speak.

I give him a slight shrug and continue, “I couldn’t get past it. I couldn’t let it go. I lost everything. Those guys…I would have done anything and everything for them. James, Lars, Cliff….they were my brothers. Like…soulmates and they cast me out like I was nothing.”

Joey puts a hand on my shoulder but I shrug him away and shake my head, “No, don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t. I climbed to the highest peak that I could of a bridge and jumped into the ocean. The whole time though, what kills me is that…I kept thinking that…they did it to me…with no warning, no second chance and yet…”

I paused and look down and suddenly I’m stuck.

Although the water is rushing below us…I see something.

Me. For the first time I see my reflection clearly.

And that’s when I realize, my mission wasn’t just about Scrappy as I had originally thought…

It was also about me.

Joey was watching me patiently, his facial expression inviting me to continue.

“I’m the one,” I say, my voice dripping in remorse as I felt tears of regret burn in my eyes. I didn’t know I could cry, “I’m the one who took away my chances. I was a good guitarist and a good song writer. I could have done something…anything…but instead…I stole it all away from myself. And if I could do it again I’d…stay.”

I then look at Joey whose brown eyes are filled with empathy before I say again, “Joey, I’d stay.”

Joey swallows and nods. He then places his hand on my shoulder again but this time I let him. We stood there for a moment, both of us have tears rolling down are cheeks as we look at the river. A few moments pass before he breaks the silence.

“I came here because I was going to jump.”

I turn and look at him and gave him a nod.

“Yeah,” I say and let out a sigh with an attempt to relieve the aching feeling in my chest, “I thought so. How do you feel now?”

Joey stood thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “I don’t know.”

Suddenly, everything seems to get even duller than it was before. Like everything is begin to fade, but to white instead of black. I blink and shake my head. He looks at me confused.

“Dave! Are you okay?” Joey asks me alarmed as I blink and shake my head.

“My…time is running out,” I respond as I begin to breathe rapidly, and I look at him, straining to focus my eyes on his dark features, “Joey, listen…I can’t tell you what to do. It doesn’t work like that. I can’t force you to choose anything because…free will and all that shit. But…I’m telling you. Think of your friends…your family…your future. Who fucking knows, maybe you’ll get another band or do something great on your own. Or maybe…Scott and Charlie will realize their mistake and coming crawling back to you someday down the line….or maybe you’ll find something else. The point is…right now, you could do anything. Stay, man. Stay.”

“Dave!” Joey exclaims his brown eyes staring at me wildly, “Dave, you’re fading!”

I look down at my arms and I see that I’m becoming transparent. I’m fading. Disappearing. Soon, I’ll be gone. I look at him helplessly and try to speak one last time.

“Dave, wait. Don’t leave me!” Joey cries out.

But, there’s nothing I can do. I fade out, and I can only hope he makes the decision that I wish I had made.

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

My eyes blink open and adjust to the bright light before me. I can feel the rays of the sun on my cheeks. I can smell the saltiness of the ocean and a breeze blows through my hair. The waves crash below me as I look down. I am balancing near the top of a tower of a bridge, my hand is clutching a cable and the shards of the wires and cutting into my skin, and I bleed. I blink as I look at it.

I’m alive.

I breathe in again and look around before I look up, squinting my eyes to the sun.

“Thank you,” I breathe, “Thank you.”

I carefully climb down from where I was perched until my feet hit the pavement safely. I look around. A crowd had started to form. I had started to cause a panic.

Because they could see me.

I smile and nod as I walk away. My hand is cut up, but that’s okay. I’m alive again.

“Time to go blow Metallica out of the water.”


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So here we are  
> This is the end  
> But all that dies  
> Is born again  
> The scars will still remain  
> From the ashes, I will rise again  
> Goodbye, hello”
> 
> In This Moment, From the Ashes

I’m standing there, shredding on my guitar in the back corner of the tent. I don’t hear as Junior approaches me. I glance up and I can see his mouth moving but I can’t hear anything he is saying. I give him a smirk and stop.

“What was that?”

We were playing a Big Four show in Sofia, Bulgaria. We were on set with Slayer, Anthrax, and, yes, Metallica….my former bandmates.

I’d like to say everything was easy once I was given my second chance on the bridge that day, but it wasn’t. I’m still human, I still made mistakes. But, still, I stayed…even when things got hard.

I stayed.

And Megadeth never quite blew Metallica out of the water.

But still, I stayed.

And I’ve got a lot to show for it.

“Did you see that Anthrax brought back their old singer?” Junior asks me, apparently repeating what he had said before.

“Oh yeah?” I say casually. I unplug my guitar and hoist it as I walk to the canvas wall and poke my head around it.

And there he is, hovering around the coffee machine, the back of his black mane facing me, but I know it’s him. He turns and glances over at me, and gives me a slight smile and a wave.

This isn’t the first time I’d seen him over the years, but every time we saw each other we never talked about our first experience together.

Sometimes I wonder if it was even real.

But then our eyes would me and I would know. Yes, it was.

And I stayed.

And so did he.

“You know, he’s a cool guy, but it’s kinda crazy he’s in a metal band. He seems a little soft for this kind of music,” Junior remarks to me with a shrug as he grabs up his bass.

I turn to him and give him a smirk, “Oh, I don’t know about that. Something tells me he can be pretty scrappy.”


	10. Stay - The Soundtrack

A Tout Le Monde – Megadeth

In My Darkest Hour – Megadeth

Cemetary Gates – Pantera

Solitude – Evanescence

Be All, End All – Anthrax

Socio – Stone Sour 

Never Too Late – Three Days Grace

Down and Out – Belladonna

Oh Sherrie – Steve Perry

Heart of Novocaine – Halestorm

From the Ashes – In This Moment


End file.
